Pete stared at himself solemnly in the mirror, his fingers numb as he straightened his tie. The black suit contrasted against his bright blue eyes and pale skin, his sallow cheeks a sign that he hadn't been sleeping lately. Or eating. Or breathing.

He fastened the cufflinks Allie had bought him a few years ago and gulped, frowning when he was unable to shift the lump in his throat. Bile rose and he braced himself against the sink, breathing as deeply as he could. He closed his eyes not wanting to open them because every time he did he saw her blood on them, he heard her screams, he saw the light disappearing out her eyes as she fought to breathe.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Come on, you can do this,"

"Daddy?"

His eyes shot open and he looked into the mirror, smiling as best he could when he spotted the head of blonde curls; Poppy leaned against the door frame, making invisible patterns on the tile with the tip of her shoe. The plaid skirt and red jumper made her look so much older than her four years; the bright blue eyes that he knew were his were shiny with unshed tears, they way they had been the past three weeks. He hated it. She was his little girl, she shouldn't be in pain...

He snorted as he met his own gaze in the mirror one last time before turning to face her.

A lot of things shouldn't be.

"There's my girl," he crouched down and gestured for her to come over. It didn't take her a second.

"I don't want to go to school today," she mumbled into his shoulder, her pudgy arms tightening around his neck.

"I know, sweetheart," Pete sighed, stroking her hair and pulling back just far enough to meet her gaze. Jesus, she was so much like her mother. His heart felt as though it was slowing, the pain searing through it making his eyes sting. "But you don't want to stay here with me, do ya?"

She nodded silently and sniffed.

"Nah you don't," he nudged her and the slightest smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Come on, all your mates or a house full of smelly boys," he wrinkled his nose and she giggled.

The best sound in the world.

"I miss mummy."

She said it so quietly that he barely heard her. It wasn't something he'd learned to respond to yet; what was he meant to say? The lump in his throat got bigger and he felt tears stinging his eyes. Control wasn't an option anymore, he had learned that weeks ago.

Instead he pulled his daughter in for a hug so tight that for a moment he was scared he might break her. But her arms came around him and she stroked the back of his neck gently, pulling back and using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe away a tear from his face.

"I love you, daddy," she told him firmly through her tears, her eyes defiant.

Pete stared at her in amazement; she was so much like Allie. So head strong, so unwilling to let anything beat her. But when you knew her well enough, you could see it behind her eyes, lurking there threatening to break at any moment. She was his daughter, when that day came, he would be there for her. He would hold her up until the end of time if that's what it took.

He wasn't going to let her go. He couldn't lose anyone else. He wouldn't survive it.

The walls of Bankside prison had seen much better days. But then again, so had Eddie Hatcher.

He felt the eyes of his fellow inmates on him as he limped down the hallway, the after affects of his altercation with the GSE still wearing off. Everyone knew who he was, even in here the name Hatcher meant something. But then again, so did the name Dunham.

The last few weeks in here had been a blur, nothing but questions and itchy sheets. Flexing his still bandaged hand, he snorted. That was the least of his worries. His mum was coming to visit him today and he hadn't seen her since...the incident. He had no idea what had happened to Sarah, if he was honest he had no idea what was going to happen to him. But given the state things had been left in, he was certain it wasn't going to be good.

Entering the communications room, he walked briskly over to the chair which had his number on it and sat down, picking up the receiver despite the fact his mother was yet to appear. Anything to focus on other than people's glares. He had learned early on that no matter what you were in for, if it involved a woman or a kid, you were lower than scum. And you paid for it daily. So for the first time in his life, Eddie Hatcher's main priority was keeping out of sight.

A knock on the screen broke him out of his reverie and he cast his eyes upward, his blood running cold as he met the gaze of the last person he could ever hope to see.

"Sorry about getting your hopes up, I know how much you were looking forward to a nice catch up with your mummy,"

Pete Dunham leant forward and stared at him coldly through the smeared, cracked Perspex.

"But I was hoping for a quick chat,"

Eddie stared back at him then turned slightly to one of the guards who had led him in.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Pete snarled. "If you've got so much as a hint of a dick, you'll sit there like a fucking man and listen,"

Eddie clapped his mouth shut instantly, terrified of the man before him. He knew that after what had happened, a few inches of plastic and some prison guards wouldn't stop Pete Dunham from ripping his organs out one by one.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked hoarsely. "I'm sorry,"

"You're sorry," Pete nodded. "You said that before. But do you think it means anything? Do you think it helps when my daughter tells me she misses 'er mum? Do you think it helps when I get into an empty bed every night?" his eyes filled to the brim and he choked out a breath. "Do you think it helps when I can't hold her? When I have to walk through my house and all I can see is her fucking blood on the carpet?"

The last sentence came out as a shout and Eddie winced, not at all surprised when the guards acted as though they hadn't heard a thing. They knew why he was in here, they wouldn't care if Pete smashed through the screen and beat the living hell out of him. Christ, they'd probably hand over their guns to help him out.

"She's gone," he sobbed. "She was my best mate, my wife. The only thing on this fucking planet that..." He let his head rest against the screen for a long moment and tried to collect himself but it was impossible. "You get to sit there, you get to wake up every morning and she doesn't. She was the best person I've ever known; she did nothing wrong. She never hurt anyone...and.."

Pete met the younger man's eyes and stared at him for the longest moment. He had come here so often, but this was the first time he had forced himself to actually speak to him. The man who had robbed him of everything. His entire world. Gone.

"She was my best mate," he whispered.

"Pete...I can't.."

"You're trial starts on Monday, don't it?" Pete asked him, his voice suddenly composed and cold.

"Yeah,"

"You better pray they send you down for a long time, mate," Pete stood up and straightened his suit, picking up the flowers that lay on the table. For her. "Because the second you get out, I'll kill you,"

Allie loved winter.

He always thought about her as he crossed the road to their house. The black and white Tudor style mansion loomed out of the early evening mist and he sighed; he remembered the days when he would be running to get there, knowing that when he opened the door she would be there, all smiles and flowery scents, her giggle echoing through the hallway as she ran into his arms and kissed him.

Now there was nothing.

He opened the large oak front door and pushed through it, frowning when he noted the lights were on. Was Natalie back already? She had taken it upon herself to walk Poppy to school every morning and pick her up each afternoon but it was too early for her to...

"Pete!"

Harry Harding ran down the stairs, tripping over his own feet as he fought to carry the heap of clothes in his arms. Starting towards him to help him, Pete frowned, realising what he was carrying.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped. "These are Allie's clothes,"

"I'm taking them..."

"The fuck you are, you little..."

"I'm taking them to the hospital," Harry grabbed him by the collar and forced him to meet his gaze. "She's awake, Pete."

He stared at him for the longest time, the words of the doctors over the last few weeks running through his mind. She was never going to wake up. They had a week before they had to decide whether to take her off life support. She was dead. For all intents and purposes, Allie Dunham was dead.

"She woke up, Pete," he sobbed. "Allie woke up."

Oh come on...you didn't think I was really THATevil, did you? ;) xxx